Thank u next
by Sheepishly101
Summary: Lance wondered why when he fell in love, he always had to learn some big life lesson. He has just assumed that it would be like magic, and he'd find the perfect someone. Why did it have to be complicated? Of course, without some people in his life, he's not sure who he'd be... Inspired by Ariana Grande, but it's not particularly a songfic


Co-written by HeavenKnowsImMiserable on ao3.

* * *

 _One taught me love_

Lance was relieved the Balmera rescue mission had gone well, and he definitely was amused when Hunk got all gushy about Shay. But Hunk getting a girlfriend hit a sore spot deep within Lance that he had done his best to bury.

He had thought, he had honestly believed that Nyma liked him. Then, she stole Blue and left him handcuffed to a tree. Lance felt _pathetic;_ he had been used and abandoned. God, the others had definitely shared a laugh over the situation afterward, but Lance just felt embarrassed. That wouldn't stop him from having clear skin though, Lance mused. After a long day, Lance had slathered on some space facial mask and lay on his bunk with only his thoughts to keep him company. He wasn't even going to try facing the rest of the Paladins at the moment.

Maybe he'd ought to get some shut-eye… Suppress his thoughts and and leave them for tomorrow.

Lance closed his eyes, then scrunched them together, then opened them. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself though, he couldn't stop seeing her _eyes._ Deep, violet orbs that he had never witnessed before (mainly because he was used to human, non-purple eyes). They were mesmerizing, She was really pretty. Like, really pretty. He had never flirted with a really pretty girl and had her reciprocate. Even though Nyma had tried to steal Blue and give her to the Galra, Lance could appreciate a beautiful person.

He shifted uncomfortably in the bunk. It irked him to know that he fell for people so _easily_. He could imagine falling in love with someone like Nyma, and he definitely felt a connection with her. She laughed with him and listened to his stories. She was super smart and funny. Nyma really was the whole package!

 _Wow this mask is itchy,_ he thought. Not even what he did to relax was helping to ease his nerves.

Was it really that bad for Lance to want to find someone while they were saving the universe? Lance was disappointed with himself because he knew how easy it would have been to fall in love with Nyma. It was a cruel realization: _love is difficult_. And Lance knew he had a lot more to learn about love. But how he wished he could learn it together with someone by his side.

* * *

 _One taught me patience_

Lance was willing to wait.

It was always something that was a bit odd with him: he nearly vibrated with excitement for the next day brought but was willing to wait for the good things in the long run.

Keith said he was going to join the Blade of Marmora, and Lance was really proud of his friend because he never expected Keith of all people to let his past dictate his future. To take one's heritage and wear it proudly while saving the world. (Lance has a feeling that wasn't really it though. There was always something more to Keith.)

There was a soft whisper that sometimes haunted Lance at night, in which Keith was running away. Running away from whatever dynamic the two had built together. Some broken partnership they stitched together, suture by suture until they were woven closer than they were when they began.

That just solidified what was Lance's animosity toward saying good-bye, though. As if somehow acknowledging the division meant it was going to happen and Lance really did not want Keith to leave. No matter how frustrated Keith made Lance, he knew they would always have each other's backs.

The last thing Lance wanted was the tether that ground him to something greater than himself to disappear. That taut string that bound them together, seemingly interlaced by the Earth Fates of Old, which didn't bend to the pressures of distance, of impending conflict. Lance hoped to Dios that whatever bond they had would remain because they had each other and that _had_ to be enough. And so, for _them_ , he would wait.

* * *

 _One taught me pain_

Every day she stayed gone was like being plunged underwater, then pulled back out. Waking up without Allura's warm body tucked beside him had become more normal than waking up with her, but Lance would not forget how she felt, smelled, or the soft whisper of her breath on his shoulder. Lance would never forget her anyway, but sometimes he needed to remind himself of the quiet, intimate moments that only he was privy to because nobody else could.

He was sitting on an Altean beach, remembering _her_. He thought of the fantasy he had, of bringing Allura to the beaches down in Cuba (he said "down" as if it were only a matter of travelling south from the Garrison) and laying down with her in the sand. He pictured her there; her silver hair caught with the scent of the ocean air. Her pointy ears that had her cute little earrings which caught the beaming sun. He might have told a joke, something stupid like how they were having a "whale" of a time and she _might_ have laughed because _that's not how whales work_ and her ears would wiggle, which would cause Lance to laugh, and soon they'd both be laying, giggling out of breath, in the soft sand.

Lance tried to shake himself out of his reverie because to think of Altea and Cuba to be so synonymous was too much, particularly when Allura was not here to witness either of them.

And yet, he could still _see_ her. Her beauty, her intelligence, perseverance and strength. She was a dancing mirage amidst a parched desert he got lost in. Lance squeezed the coarse sand, staring out across the ocean, then looked to his side expecting to see her smiling back at him. But she was gone, and she was nothing but the sand slipping past his fingers.

However, if he listened to the waves, it was almost like listening to the slow, alto voice that was so distinctly Allura. The voice engulfed his senses and he was left with the last memory he would ever have of Allura. She wasn't gone, not really. Lance carried something more resonate than a picture or memory. He had a message. One of love for the universe. A message he would retain with every breath that rattled his lungs, every footprint left in the sand, every star that Voltron touched. Allura, the embodiment of forgiveness and compassion was a _part_ of him.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt, though. Lance was sure he had never felt an ache like this, he had never imagined a hole this deep in his heart. It was not something Lance had ever wished to experience.

He hoped the pain would go away, even though he knew that things that one wanted, particularly love, were rarely received.

Still, he touched his cheek, where the love was etched onto his very skin.

* * *

 _And now I'm so amazing_

Lance was glad he selected a quaint life. He touched more lives when he spread the mantra of hope Voltron represented than when he was battling robeasts. He hadn't spoken to some of his friends in a long while, but they had all promised to meet for the fifth celebration of Allura on Altea. That was where he found himself now in fact— a juniberry field overlooking Allura's statue.

It was strange; the heartache he once held had dulled and he loved life now more than ever. Lance pondered a moment, taking in the sweet scent of the juniberry field around him. It was in that moment of absolute serenity he realized not the importance of his past loves, for that always been apparent. But instead, his own strength and devotion. He was now happier because he was happier with himself, and Lance had never been more proud. He smiled softly, as the buzz of a comm sounded in his pocket. _Thank you Lance._

* * *

Thank u [insert name] because Lance is grateful to everyone he has loved. Lance has always been amazing, but now he knows and believes it.


End file.
